American Idiot
by CanineGalactic
Summary: The journey of Stan Marsh as he tries to live his dysfunctional life as a young adult with in a broken country. He comes to terms with how the world is run and ultimately learns you can't run away from your problems. But that doesn't stop him from trying. Story based off of Green Day's album "American Idiot" Drug use, violence and alcohol abuse tw
1. Chapter 1: American Idiot

Chapter one: American Idiot

 **Journal entry 2018/10/11**

 _"Information Age of hysteria_

 _It's calling out to idiot America"_

 _Eighteen years I've spent in this God forsaken town. Nothing ever changes. Same faces, same place and same dysfunctional family I go home to every night. But I guess it's not that bad. It could be worse. I could be stuck in a dead end job like my bastard father._

He took a puff from his cigarette, exhaling watching as the smoke disappeared in to the crisp air. He sat back resting against a tree up on a hill just outside of town. Just big enough to have a pretty decent view of the town he calls home. Stan closed his eyes as his mind started to wonder, an internal monologue battling back and forth in his mind.

 _The world is definitely a scary place. Especially America. A country ran by a couple of idiots who couldn't be fucked about their people. More importantly their youth. The backbone of this country. Without the youth there is no future. One would think we would be handled with care and decency, but instead we're thrown to the dogs of hell in to a decaying pit of what was once a country to fend for ourselves. It's a sad reality really, but honestly I digress. I could ramble on and on about what a shit hole this place is, but that's not what this story is about._

Stan felt something vibrate in his pocket bringing him back down to earth. He took out his phone as he saw the screen lit up. Yet another text message from his mother asking where he is for the hundredth time. It was getting late as the sun had set hours ago. He figured it was about time to head on home before he becomes a missing person case. He got up, took a finale drag from his cigarette before throwing it on the ground and killing it with his sneaker. He made his way down the hill sighing to himself.

 _This story isn't about the shit stain of a country, but rather its people. More specifically the youth. Even more specifically one explicit youth and his journey._

 _This is a story about Stan Marsh._


	2. Chapter 2: Jesus of Suburbia act I

Chapter two: Jesus of Suburbia act I: Jesus of Suburbia

 **Journal entry 2018/10/17**

 _I'm the son of rage and love  
The Jesus of Suburbia_

 _So it starts. My story isn't something new. It's your typical hero's journey. Call to adventure, facing obstacles, the big revelation then a happy ending. Though I wouldn't really consider myself a hero. Not really a villain either. I'm nothing. I'm just a person. A person who has made a lot of mistakes in his life. Do I regret them? Maybe some, but I guess that just builds character. But I digress. You're probably wondering by now what it is I'm rambling on about. Well my story begins just like any other story. From the beginning._

Stan looked at himself in the mirror one finale time. His hair unkempt, but in a way that it was intentional. His skin was pale and sickly from the lack of sun seeing as he hardly ever leaves his room during the day. Eyes heavy with sleep as dark rings hung loosely on his face like bags filled with restless nights. At least he was dressed semi decently. A t-shirt with torn jeans and a pair of sneakers. Honestly what more does he need?

"Stan? STAN!" He heard a rough voice bawling out his name. Stan grabbed the edge of the basin with a tight, whitening grip and lowered his head, gritting his teeth.

"What?" He yelled back. He wasn't in the mood for this mess. Not again. He knew exactly what was coming. He could smell the rancid stench of cheap booze fulling the room as a distraught figure stood by the door.

"Where do you think you're going?" Randy probed, slouching against the bathroom door frame trying to keep his balance.

"I'm going out." Stan responded bluntly, not looking up. The site of his drunk father made him sick to his core. Not a new thing though. This has been going on for years since he was a kid, it just had gotten worse.

"Again?" Randy stumbled over his words "Is that all you're going to do with your life? Is party with those cunts you call friends?"

"Are you planning on drinking yourself to your death every night?" Stan retorted back, feeling a small smirk forming on his face.

Randy scoffed "Why do I even bother. You'll always be a useless little shit. You won't amount to anything. Biggest mistake of my life."

 _He was right. I was useless. I had no direction in life. And I didn't care. Why should I? My father's an alcoholic and my mother suffers from manic depression. If my parents can bullshit their way through life then why can't I? I've been doing pretty ok so far. When I was a kid I had big dreams and ambition and a love for life, but as I got older and my friends and family started deteriorating I just got to a point where I didn't care. I didn't care what happened to me or my family. I didn't care about my future. I just... didn't care. It's like I've been moulded by apathy. Life is pointless so I might as well have fun where I can_

"Love you too dad." He spat sarcastically. Stan heard Randy grumble before leaving the room. He sighed

He left the bathroom and walked passed his parents room. He saw his mother sitting on the bed, crying. His best bet was because of his dead beat dad.

 _As much of a downer as my family is I still felt a lot of sorrow in my heart for my poor mother. She's always tried so hard keeping this family together. I could see her waning every day, physically and psychologically. It's as if her physical form is being dragged through the ground and filth her mind crumbling to dust. I knew what it was like. I suffer from depression too though I was far more successful at supressing it._

He knocked lightly on the door.

"Mom?"

She didn't respond. The air was thick with emotions and it made him sick. He tried again

"It's going to be okay, mom. I promise."

Still nothing. He sighed, shaking his head. That was the best he could do. Once she's in this state there's no coming out of it. It'll probably last a few days before she's back to her old self. That is if his dad doesn't fuck it up again. He gingerly closed her door and made his way down the steps.

The television was blaring through the bottom half of the house. Stan searched for his things listening to the box with half an ear.

"…and yet another teen found dead in the streets of South Park the police officially announcing it as an epidemic…"

Randy, who was currently sprawled out on the couch, scoffed. "Bastard kid probably deserved it"

Stan just rolled his eyes and went on his way.

He grabbed his keys, his wallet and his phone and made his way out the door. He looked up at the night sky, shivering as the cold icy wind bit his skin. He lit a cigarette before walking his usual route.

 _My life isn't perfect. Neither are the people around me. But I try to get by. I'm not living my best life, but I have fun on occasions. Hanging out with my friends trying to make the most out of a bad situation. I can always count on my nights out with Kenny and the gang to cheer me up. It's all I have left. They'll always be around no matter what._

 _Or so I thought._


	3. Chapter 3: Jesus of Suburbia Act II

Chapter three: Jesus of Suburbia Act II: City of the damned

 **Journal entry 2018/10/17**

 _"City of the damned  
Lost children with dirty faces today  
No one really seems to care"_

 _There's been a lot of stories going around about kids being shot in the streets, but I wasn't too fazed by it. I'm not always a nihilistic asshole. I have faith in people sometimes. The world can't really be that shit of a place, right? Especially with friends like mine. I always have fun with my friends. Specifically when booze was involved. We laugh we joke around and sometimes we even have light hearted debates about dumb things that no one really cares about. But I have to say out of all of my friends, Kenny McCormick was my closest friend. No matter how shit my life got I could always count on him as a crutch. I knew him ever since I was a little shit head of a kid. Sure I had other friends too, but Kenny and I were tight. He didn't have a great family home either and in a way we sort of bonded over how fucked up it was. He always found a way to put a new perspective on things. Now I'm not an idiot nor am I naïve. I knew how the world works and I can see right through people. I like to think I was quite savvy when it comes to these kind of things. I know people and I know the world._

 _But sometimes the world surprises you and throws you a curve ball and you're left with an empty feeling in the pit of your stomach_

Stan laughed out loud, snorting as he leaned against Kenny who was currently giving him a sly smirk.

"Dude that's so fucked up." Stan slurred over his words. He and a group of friends were walking through town enjoying the night. Well as much as a bunch of drunk rejects could. The moon shun brightly in the night sky and the air was chilly causing a cold nip in the air, but the boys were warm enough thanks to the booze that they hardly noticed it.

"Yah I call bullshit." Craig chipped in hanging on the arm of his boyfriend, Tweek who was currently trying to hide from the cold as he seems to be the only person sobering up.

"No it really happened I swear!" Kenny laughed "I saw it myself."

"I call bullshit too. There's no way a man can fit an entire glass jar up his ass." Token added, agreeing with Craig.

"I can always show it to you." Kenny pulled out his phone and held it up so everyone could see

"No way you have it on your phone?" Stan tried to grab the phone from Kenny, but he was much taller than Stan so it was a struggle. Kenny pushed Stan back, laughing

"Chill dude I'll show it to yo-" He stopped when he saw a dark figure approaching them. "Who the hell is that?"

Everyone stopped upon noticing the figure themselves. Stan squinted and sudden panic washed over him

 _There's a lot of violence in this world. So much so that when you hear about it you're so unfazed because it's old news. But it's completely different when you experience it first-hand. It was dark. The only light coming from the dimly lit street lights scattered alongside the road. I couldn't make out much of the figure, but when I saw the steel death in the man's coat I immediately knew there was trouble._

"Give me the phone." The man spoke with a raspy voice, pointing the gun straight at Kenny. Kenny backed away holding his hands up

"Listen, dude, I'm not looking for trouble-"

"I said give me the phone, pussy! Or I'll shoot!" the man sounded like he meant business.

Kenny slowly handed over the phone to the man, shaking.

 _What happened next was scaring to say the least. It all happened so fast. Kenny was looking down the barrel of the gun. I could sense the fear in his eyes. It's like our souls were connected and I could read his thoughts. I doubt the figure had any intentions of actually shooting Kenny, but I guess accidents happen._

Kenny's head shot back as the bullet penetrated his skull. His body collapsed in a violent thud. His life seeping in to the cracks of the road. His body started to convulse, shaking as if his soul was forcing its way out of his person.

Everyone watched in horror as their friend's body hit the ground. Stan was about to jump to his side when a hand grabbed him by the arm

"Dude what are you doing we need to get the fuck out of here!" Craig pulled him back. Stan looked up the man who was currently pointing the gun towards him.

 _I ran. I didn't stay. My best friend was dead and I couldn't comfort him because I was too much of a fucking pussy. We all ran. Like a herd of deer running away from a predator. I could still hear the gun shots exploding in the back, but honestly I didn't care if I died that night. The group stopped at a nearby gas station figuring they would be safe there, but I…just kept running with my tail between my legs like a fucking coward._

Stan's legs carried him all the way home. He felt sick. Sick to his core. He hastily unlocked the front door with trembling hands and ran up to the bathroom. His legs finally gave out as he sat in front of the toilet, convulsing. He felt the liquid in the back of his throat and started vomiting in to the toilet. He spat a couple of times trying to get the taste out of his mouth and rested his head on the toilet seat. He was exhausted. Too tired to move.

"Rough night?" Randy stood by the door once again, though clearly more sober.

Stan lifted up his head from the seat, but didn't put much effort in to looking at his father as his head felt heavy.

"K-Kenny…" He managed to force out of his system.

"What about the little cunt?"

"H-he's… dead."

Randy scoffed "He probably OD'd"

Stan was in shock. He went silent, hands still trembling. He thought back on the gruesome tragedy and felt his stomach in the back of his throat again. He vomited for a second time.

Randy scrunched up his nose in disgust. "Whatever clean up when you're done I don't want this place smelling like puke." He left, turning off the hallway light. Leaving Stan alone in the bathroom hunched over the toilet.

 _I didn't sleep that night. How could I? I kept replaying what happened in the back of my mind. How could somebody do that? How do you just kill a living person with no remorse? And how could my father be so unfazed by everything? I thought I knew people, but I don't. I had always thought the cruellest of people can still summon up a bit of compassion, but I was wrong. People are evil. No one cares. Or do I care too much? I sat up that entire night, crying. I lost a friend and the world…_

 _…doesn't care._


End file.
